Vera lay on her bed, eyes half-closed. Across the room, perched on the opposite bed with her legs crossed, Emily was reading a textbook aloud. Vera’s phone erupted with a pop tune, startling Emily into snapping her book shut and shooting her friend a reproachful glare.
With a sigh, Vera answered. A second later, she sat bolt upright. Then she tossed the phone aside, sprang to her feet, and began darting around the cramped dorm room, stuffing clothes from the wardrobe into a duffel bag.
“Where are you going? What’s happened?” Emily fretted.
“The neighbor called. Mum’s been taken to hospital—a heart attack.” Vera yanked the bag’s zip shut and headed for the door, where their coats hung and boots were lined up.
“You’ve got an exam tomorrow! She’s in good hands. Take the test, then go,” Emily urged, standing as she watched Vera tug on her boots.
“Listen, Em, sort things out with the faculty for me. I’ll deal with the resits during the break. My coach leaves in forty minutes.” Vera was already fastening her coat.
“Call me when you know more about your mum,” Emily called, but Vera was already out the door. The sharp clatter of heels faded down the corridor.
Emily sighed, turned back into the room—then spotted Vera’s phone charger still plugged in. She grabbed it, barefoot, and sprinted after her.
“Vera! Vera, wait!” she yelled, thundering down the stairs.
The front door slammed below. Emily leaped down the last few steps, shoved the door open, and nearly tumbled onto the frosty pavement.
“Vera!”
The girl turned, saw the cable in Emily’s hand, and jogged back.
“Thanks,” she muttered before dashing off again.
“Emily Carter, what’s all this commotion? One of you nearly takes the door off, the other’s running outside barefoot—have you lost your minds?” The dorm matron, Mrs. Higgins, rose from her desk, scowling.
“Sorry, Mrs. Higgins. We don’t smoke,” Emily stammered, shifting from foot to foot as grit from the icy path bit into her bare soles.
“Vera’s mum’s been rushed to hospital. It’s freezing—can I go?” Without waiting for an answer, Emily bolted back upstairs.
“Oh, good Lord,” Mrs. Higgins muttered, sinking into her chair and crossing herself. “Heaven help us.”
Back in the room, Emily brushed the grit from her feet, tidied Vera’s scattered belongings, slipped into her slippers, and filled the kettle. Tomorrow’s exam loomed. Tea would warm her, and then she’d dive back into revision.
Darkness had fallen when a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Who’s there?” Emily called. No reply. Irritated, she stood and yanked the door open.
“Hi.” Oliver stood there, holding a modest bouquet.
“Come in.” She waited until he stepped inside before adding, “Vera’s gone home.”
“But she’s got an exam tomorrow.”
“I’ll sort it with the faculty. She’ll resit it over the break.” Emily eyed the flowers.
“These are for you.” Oliver held them out.
“Thanks. Fancy a cuppa?” She took the bouquet to the windowsill, fetching an empty jar.
“I’ll get water. You get settled.” She smiled and slipped out.
Oliver only removed his shoes, then drifted to Vera’s bed. He sat, trailing his fingers over the cheap blanket as if stroking the absent girl herself.
Emily returned, arranging the flowers in the jar. She stepped back, admiring them.
“Lovely. What are they?”
“Sweet peas,” Oliver said. “I should go.” He stood.
“Did you and Vera have plans?” Emily asked quickly, reluctant to let him leave.
“Yeah. I got us tickets to that gig.”
“Seriously? Take me, then. No point wasting them.”
Oliver hesitated.
“You’ve got that exam.”
“So what?” She waved a hand. “I’ve been revising all day—I need a break.”
He debated. Vera was gone. The tickets would go to waste. They’d only just started seeing each other—it wasn’t serious. Going with her roommate wasn’t betrayal, was it?
“Alright,” he said.
Emily squealed, clapping her hands. “Wait outside—just let me get ready!”
He nodded, shoved his shoes on, and stepped into the hall.
Five minutes later, Emily emerged. Oliver noticed she’d dabbed on mascara and lipstick, pinned up her hair. How had she managed it so fast?
“Let’s go, or we’ll miss it,” he urged.
At the gig, Emily danced, arms aloft, screaming along with the crowd in euphoric abandon. She kept glancing at Oliver, who soon caught her energy, shouting lyrics back at the stage.
Afterwards, they walked home, dissecting the concert with giddy excitement.
“That bit was my favourite,” Emily hummed a riff.
“Yeah. And when they did—” Oliver mimicked the guitarist, mangling the lyrics.
They reached the dorm. Emily rattled the locked door.
“Mrs. Higgins is on tonight. No way she’ll let us in. What now?” she whispered, wide-eyed.
Oliver grabbed her arm, steering her around the building. Two girls were clambering through a ground-floor window. “Quick—follow them!”
He boosted Emily up. Hands yanked her inside. Oliver hauled himself in just as a shrill whistle cut through the night.
“Move!” Emily hissed.
They scrambled into the corridor, stifling giggles as the whistle faded. Upstairs, they collapsed into Emily’s room, breathless with laughter.
“Should probably go,” Oliver said once they’d calmed.
The room was dark—neither had bothered with the light.
“Stay. I like you. A lot,” Emily whispered fiercely, pressing close, lips tilting up to meet his.
Vera returned to the silent dorm at the end of the break. Emily and Oliver hadn’t come back yet. She negotiated her missed exam, presenting the hospital note. The crisis had passed, though her mother remained under care.
She scraped through the resit. Term resumed, but Emily never returned, her calls unanswered. The faculty said she’d taken leave due to illness.
A new roommate moved in. Lectures, Oliver—no time to dwell on Emily’s disappearance. Soon, she was forgotten. Oliver never mentioned the gig, or what came after. It felt like a dream.
Twenty-one years later
“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” A girl who could’ve been Oliver’s twin walked in.
“How was uni?” He lowered his newspaper.
“Let her change first,” Vera called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s nearly ready.”
Soon, they were all at the table.
“Mum, Dad—today I met this girl at uni who looks exactly like me. Everyone noticed.”
“Funny how that happens. They say everyone’s got a double. Rare you meet them, though. Another roast potato?” Vera asked her husband.
“Dad, you’ve gone all quiet.” Their daughter, Lily, nudged him.
“Thanks, I’m full. Did you talk to her? The girl?”
“Course.” Lily chewed. “She’s a finalist. Get this—her name’s Claire, and her surname’s… Summers.”
“When I was at uni, my roommate was Em—Emily Carter, I think. Left after first year.” Vera studied Oliver.
“That’s it! Emily Carter. Pretty, right?” Lily beamed.
“I only had eyes for you. Didn’t notice anyone else,” Oliver said, sipping tea—then choking. “How many times must I ask for cooler water? Scorched my tongue.”
“Sorry.” Vera fetched a jug, topping up his glass.
“Not thirsty.” He pushed his chair back.
“Are they really that alike?” Vera asked his retreating back.
“Everyone says so…”
Oliver pretended to nap on the sofa, mind racing. A coincidence? But it happened. No use pretending otherwise. That’s why Em took leave. Idiot. What was I thinking?
“Oliver, wake up—you’ll ruin your sleep.” Vera’s voice softened. “Are you ill?”
“No.”
He barely slept. Next morning, he called in sick—dental pain, he claimed—but drove to the dorms instead.
“Is Claire Summers here?” he asked the matron—a woman eerily like Mrs. Higgins.
“Who’s asking?”
“Her uncle. Just passing through.”
The woman eyed him suspiciously. Three girls clattered downstairs.
“There she is. Claire, visitor!” the matron called.
“Who?” The girl—Claire—scanned Oliver.
“You coming?” her friends called from the door.
“Go on. Who are you?” she asked Oliver.
“Let’s talk outside.”
“Uncle, my foot!” the matron snapped.
“Don’t call security. Is your mum Emily Carter? Were you born in September?”
“Who the hell are you?”Oliver stared at her, the weight of two decades pressing down as he whispered, “I think I might be your father.”
